


One should have a back-up plan for every occasion, and a back-up plan for every back-up plan, too

by perennials



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sakata Gintoki, I think that I am in love with you," Katsura says very reluctantly one day, when they are the only two left in class and Gintoki is halfheartedly dragging the duster across the whiteboard’s lackluster surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One should have a back-up plan for every occasion, and a back-up plan for every back-up plan, too

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine. Final proof-reading done at 1 in the morning again, so if you spot any glaring errors do drop a comment down below (thanks).
> 
> I don't own Gintama or its characters.

"Sakata Gintoki, I think that I am in love with you," Katsura says very reluctantly one day, when they are the only two left in class and Gintoki is halfheartedly dragging the duster across the whiteboard’s lackluster surface.

"Haa?" He twists around to shoot a disbelieving look at his long-haired friend. Katsura is standing with his back against the row of cabinets at the far end of the classroom, arms and legs glued rigidly to his sides.

Katsura gulps and straightens his back further. "Do not think that this was a matter of choice! If I could, I would've gone for someone far more, _ahem_ , normal."

(This is what Gintoki knows: the doe-eyed fool that is Katsura Kotarou has been his friend for the better part of the last ten years, and has always preferred widows (of all people!) to lazy, unmotivated sugar-addicts with dead-fish eyes and permy silver hair.

This is what Gintoki doesn't know: Katsura Kotarou has a mini party popper stuffed in his back pocket and another one clenched in his left fist, to be used in the event of an emergency or to aid in his escape. He also has a can of pepper spray tucked into his other pocket, because one can never be too prepared when making a confession to someone quite as unpredictable as Gintoki.)

Gintoki hurls the duster at his head. It misses its target and tumbles pathetically to the floor, and Katsura flinches. "Did something fall from the sky and knock you over while I wasn't looking? The nurse's office is right down the corridor, if you need it." Sighing, he ambles over to his desk, grabs his bag, and slings it over his shoulder.

"W-wait! Don't go!" Katsura splutters from behind.

He pauses. "You're obviously not okay. Go home, take a nap, get some soba noodles or something."

"I _mean_ what I said."

Gintoki laughs. "You _never_ mean anything. You're the resident cloud cuckoo-lander; mister comic relief, forever on standby."

"There's no other explanation for the way my eyes are always drawn to your disgusting perm during lessons, or the way my heart ski-"

"Oh god, you're going to turn this into a different kind of story. The sort that makes parents lunge for the remote and slam the 'next channel' button so their kids won't get contaminated."

Katsura's exasperated reply is cut short by another massive sigh escaping Gintoki's lips.

"If I were to take you seriously, what would you do, huh? What would you want _me_ to do?" Gintoki changes course and begins walking towards the stunned Katsura. "Go out with you? Hold your hand? Walk home with you? Wait, I already do that. Err, take you out on dates? Sit with you at lunch break?"

Katsura finds himself increasingly trapped between the cabinet and the approaching teenager, and when they are close enough that their noses are practically touching Gintoki ghosts a hand along his jawline and whispers, "or perhaps, you would prefer it if I kissed you?"

Two things happen at once.

Katsura yells _LEADER_ very suddenly at the top of his lungs and a can of pepper spray is launched at Gintoki's face. The former results in a small girl with fiery hair dashing into the classroom, while the latter sends Gintoki flying backwards into a desk.

"ZURAAAAA," they shout in unison.

 _Katsura_ is flustered, too flustered to speak.

"Ugh, you didn't have to knock me over! I was just kidding!" Gintoki winces and gingerly touches the blossoming purple bruise on his cheek.

The bespectacled girl- Kagura- adjusts her glasses and asks casually, as if the subject of their conversation is not sprawled out on the floor between them, "so, how'd it go?"

Katsura buries his (beet red) face in his hands and sniffles miserably.

A lightbulb goes off in Kagura's head. She starts rolling up her sleeves. "Don't worry, Zura, I'll beat him up real good for you!"

"What? Huh? I'm sorry, beat who up?"

"You made Zura cry."

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura," comes the muffled response.

" _I'm_ not the one who confessed outta the blue! You can ask the guy himself what happened!"

"He's _crying_!"

"He _threw a can of fucking pepper spray_ at my face!"

Kagura decides that Gintoki is no longer worth verbally engaging and balls her hands into fists, while Gintoki pulls himself up to a standing position and picks up the dented can of pepper spray.

The sharp screeching of the table legs scraping the floor causes Katsura to look up, and at the sight of Kagura and Gintoki poised and ready to fight (and inevitably destroy the entire school), he panics and does the only thing that he can think to do under the circumstances.

The party popper goes off with a resounding _BANG_ , and strings of colored paper fly out, twisting around and over his two classmates.

They stand in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s okay, Leader. You can go,” Katsura finally says.

“Oh, you sure?” He nods. “A’rright, then. If you say so.” Kagura smoothly and nonchalantly exits the classroom, entirely unfazed by the events that occurred prior.

“Ah, so, um- about what happened just now…” Gintoki trails off awkwardly as Katsura systematically picks paper coils out of his hair.

“I am sorry,” Katsura mumbles, staring pointedly at his latest excavation- a bright, Christmassy-green strip of about five inches in length. He doesn’t catch the small, smug grin that lights up Gintoki’s face.  

“But you know, Zura, just a simple apology won’t cut it,” Gintoki whines, when all the contents of the party popper have been retrieved and tossed into the bin, and shows Katsura a pathetic, puppy-eyed expression. “Gin-san’s cheek still hurts like hell.”

Katsura loves puppies, and though Gintoki’s imitation isn’t all that impressive- maybe five-and-a-half stars out of eight; forty-nine percent _mildly irritating_ and fifty-one percent strangely endearing- it is of a passable standard. He swallows the automatic “it’s not Zura, it’s Katsura” that has bubbled to the surface, and lets a low “hmm?” slip out of his lips instead. Maybe Gintoki will ask for bandages. He can handle bandages and bandaging and most of the things that come with that.

“I’m sure I’d feel a lot better if you’d give me a kiss on the ch-”

The last of Katsura’s emergency countermeasures goes off with an ear-splitting crack, this time right in Gintoki’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's that.  
> If you liked it, leave a kudo or a comment or something, that'd be cool.


End file.
